controlled chaos
by sophie1670
Summary: Tim is being targeted from someone in his past. The Marshals aren't responsible for his safety this time
1. Chapter 1

Controlled chaos. The scene was barely controlled chaos. Sure, it was often like this with these many arrests, but it was looking at it from the outside that just… entertained him. Tim was on administrative duties due to the "threat on his life." Like his job wasn't a threat on his life. He provided protective details, he didn't get one. He took a deep breath, it was infuriating if he thought about it. So, his solution was to not think about it.

Practical.

Tim took a swig of his coffee and continued surveying the scene. Attempted jewel heist next to a grocery store, Marshals were called in to assist with a federal probation violation on one of the thieves, a former bank robber no less, and to help moving the seven conspirators. Which seemed like a lot, until you looked in to how three of the co-conspirators were significant others. Only one of the actual thieves was a woman. Attractive too, but then you would be if you were a jewel thieving gymnast, right?

He spared another brief glance to her before returning to the carnage of the scene outside of the jewelry store. A twenty-million-dollar diamond set was the target, necklace, bracelet and earrings. Had been scheduled to move for the owner's Halloween party. FBI and state troopers had eyes on it as soon as the jewelry had been transferred to the store for pickup. Apparently, the wife had been planning on going as Elizabeth Taylor. They didn't know if a buyer had been lined up yet but that many marked stones were a lot to move and they looked to have invested on a lot of tech for the job, as well.

One of the troopers gestured to him to come over and he tossed his empty coffee cup back into the SUV. Walking over, he said, "Gonna let me play too?"

Trooper Sandford chuckled, his donut belly, as he referred to them in his head, quivered, "Yeah, you looked so forlorn checking her out over there."

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," but he grinned. "What can I do?"

"Need you to take her and your guy over to your offices. Apparently, she's something we're not qualified to handle," he smirked.

"Really?" He allowed his eyebrows to shoot up to play along. Sandford was a good cop and it would pay off to humor him later.

"Note from Washington on her name."

"She didn't give you an alias."

"Sorry. On _every_ name she offered," Sandford looked back at her, leaning docilly against the fender next to their federal violator.

He shifted to reevaluate her. Squinting dispassionately, he noted that she was generically pretty, not beautiful, but she had the bones of it. High cheekbones, not too high. Large eyes, angled up like a Hepburn lookalike. If she ever dolled herself up, she'd probably be stunning. Her coloring was vague as well. Dark eyes, light olive skin tone, dark brown hair, any number of ethnicities could have been attributed to her given what they could do with makeup now. She had a slight build, but a lot of muscle. Even now her posture was perfect, erect but not stiff.

He blinked the word "erect" away. She goosed his neck hair. Nothing else.

"Why doesn't the FBI want her?" They had enough trouble. A shady woman with her looks in Raylan's line of sight would be the death of them.

She had been relatively quiet and obedient through the whole process. Downright inoffensive, given the arresting officers behavior. She'd told the others to shut up and call lawyers, but said nothing herself. Well-practiced criminal. Entirely in black, from her headband to her ballet slippers, she had sweat dripping off her face in the sun, but hadn't make any effort to wipe any of it away. She was completely still.

"They do. Flag says to keep her from them. Consequently, y'all get her. You should be more excited. You could have gotten their lookout."

"What's wrong with the lookout?"

"Rolled in a dumpster to keep people from bothering him while he was watching."

Tim wrinkled his nose. That was dedication. "Well, then," he said, lacking any comment as his wheels spun in place about the woman. "Guess we better get her in the car."

Sandford quirked his eyebrows, "Tell me, she didn't just get hotter."

"She just got scarier," he said honestly.

Peter Calhoun and Sonya Walters, as her name was given, were loaded in the SUV and his multitasking protective detail, Nelson, got in the rear passenger seat, next to her. They'd been cuffed in the front to make it easier to see if they were trying to escape. Calhoun was next to him, directly in front of Nelson.

He pulled out with a nod to his Chief and started back to the office. It would be about an hour and with a few stretches of empty road before they would be back in the city. And he was looking forward to learning just how scary she was. It was research, they hadn't taken that from him yet.

It had been a week before, his apartment broken into and someone waiting there to take a shot at him. He'd returned fire and winged him, but he'd escaped. Breaking his window and losing him his security deposit. Fingerprints and DNA came back with a former PFC Aaron Wiggs, dishonorably discharged after misplacing a couple of crates of P22's. He didn't know of any connection between them so they had put him at a hotel for a couple of days. Then his room had been broken into when he was on an overnight prisoner transfer. Now Nelson was his shadow.

That was probably the most annoying part, even ahead of losing the security deposit. That he had a fucking shadow.

They passed the first stretch of empty road without incident, Nelson didn't try to make conversation and neither did she. Calhoun on the other hand.

"This is bullshit- "

"Shut up, Peter," she'd say shortly.

Moments would pass, "But- "

"Shut _up_!"

Nelson smirked, but said nothing. Tim didn't have a lot of faith that Nelson wouldn't open his mouth, he was reliable that way.

After passing the Tom Thumb that started the next stretch Calhoun started, "How much longer?"

"Peter, shut the fuck up," her dark eyes were wide and forceful.

"Now, c'mon," Nelson smirked, "no need for that language."

She looked at Nelson like he was something she scraped off her shoe. He suppressed a snicker from the driver's seat, badly.

Her eyes flickered at him in the mirror, but there was neither appreciation for his laugh at his colleague's expense nor malice. But he got the impression she saw a whole hell of a lot in that millisecond of eye contact before she continued staring straight ahead.

They were going the speed limit but a pickup was coming up on them fast. Older model, white, no front plate, illegal in this state, but could be someone passing through. He stayed in his lane and watched them. When they were close enough to tailgate, he pulled closer to the berm to help them pass, there was no traffic in the opposite lane to impede them and waited. The windshield was too tinted to see if the driver saw.

Shit.

They hit as he was calling Nelson's attention to it. Not that he wasn't already watching it.

He managed to keep it on the road and sped up to get away while Nelson called it in and Calhoun started swearing. She kept her eyes on it and warned when they sped up again. He watched Nelson nod his appreciation to her before they rammed them again. Off-center this time, they spun off the road and the rear panel hit the pines separating the roadway from the wheat fields. The pickup was followed by another SUV and pulled off behind them.

The pickup's engine was smoking and front end damaged. The driver got out, holding a bandanna to his bleeding head and got in the passenger side of the SUV as the driver and passenger got out.

"Everyone OK?"

Calhoun started to open his mouth as she interrupted, saying, "We're fine. Shoot them."

He was really starting to appreciate how succinct she was, whatever her name was.

Nelson drew and was having trouble with the damaged back door, she tried hers. Naturally, the child locks were on on her side.

Tim got out, gun pulled, and opened her door as she leaned back, gesturing for Nelson to crawl over her.

He was not jealous.

Nelson hollered as he slammed the door, locking them both in the damaged vehicle and they both pointed at the incomers, "Stay back, Federal Marshals!"

They were maybe seven yards away and pulled, firing at the SUV.

The marshals could hear Calhoun in the car muttering as he'd ducked inside the armored vehicle. The gunmen pursued them both as they lured them away from the SUV. They fired at each other from either side of the SUV, and all they heard was rounds fired until it was interrupted by a crack and fire stopped being returned. Maybe fifteen or twenty seconds had passed.

He stalked around the car until he saw her standing there, gun pointed at one of them, handcuffs dangling loose, driver door open. Seeing him, she tossed them at him, keeping her gun on the man on the ground. Nelson had come around behind her and all Tim could see was his raised eyebrows.

Coming closer he saw why. She'd snapped the neck of the other gunman.

Upon Nelson's approach, she and Tim having the gunman under control, she set the gun on the hood and opened the back door of the SUV, "You're welcome." She moved to get into the SUV when the undamaged truck the driver had gotten into pulled around the totaled pickup and aimed at them. Tim pulled the disarmed goon back by the collar and she tackled Nelson out of the way.

After the impact, the already injured driver tried to scramble out of the truck and run away but Tim was quicker. Having handcuffed the gunman to the grill of the SUV, he gave chase. Nelson started to follow, but a shot rang out and he fell.

The woman had retrieved the gun, probably before tackling Nelson, and had shot him in the back from forty feet.

She raised her hands, pistol dangling from her thumb, and set it on the ground. Far enough away from herself and their prisoner before kneeling on the ground, saying, "I'm cooperating. And he'll probably live. What color's the blood?"

The gunman sat on the ground as they waited for a car to pick them up and he leant against the useless fender watching her as she'd returned to staring straight ahead. "Do I want to know where you learned to do that, princess?"

She quirked an eyebrow as she made eye contact.

"I know your name ain't Sonya Walters."

"It ain't princess either," she responded. Dead eyes. Not her first body, he surmised. Maybe that was why she was wanted. Didn't explain why the Marshal's Service didn't know who she was, or why _someone_ didn't want the FBI to have her, though.

"What do you mean- "Calhoun looked at her like he didn't recognize her.

Softly this time, gently even, she said, "Shh, Peter, really."

She didn't say another word during the entire wait or drive to the office.

There was a suit he didn't recognize waiting in the conference room as they were brought in. He was waiting with a suit he knew better than he wanted to. Patel Helvana was the Army officer assigned to deal with the attempts on his life, since the only thing he'd had in common with Wiggs was their military service. Helvana had been tasked with investigating that aspect of the attempts on his life. The suit next to him was probably military too, he imagined.

The new guy got up when they brought in Calhoun and Walters. She stood, cuffs back on, as Calhoun was processed and given to waiting marshals for prison transport. New guy came out as soon as Calhoun left the room and demanded, "Get your cuffs off my officer, Deputy."

She lifted her wrists, bare now, cuffs dangling from a finger. "Really, Q?" her lips quirked in a smile. The first expression they'd seen on her.

Tim noticed how it changed her face, made her cross that line into beautiful. And kicked himself for noticing.

'Q' smiled in approval, "Thattagirl, c'mon. I got bad news." And turned to the conference room where he'd left Helvana.

"But I don't want that," She almost whined, trudging after him. A completely different person after the car ride in. He exchanged glances with Art and the newly arrived Raylan.

They shut the door but not the blinds and he and Nelson could make out Helvana speaking and her being very unhappy with the news. She'd sat attentively at first and her body language changed almost immediately. Her jaw clenched, arms crossed and every few moments her eyes went to the other suit who'd greeted her and was no less unhappy with Helvana's news. After a few minutes, Helvana opened the door, "Deputy Gutterson?"

He went in, followed by Art because it was Art's office and he was Art's Deputy.

Helvana wasn't pleased to see Art closing the door behind them but tolerated it. The other suit didn't bat an eye. She didn't look over, jaw clenched so tight she probably couldn't turn her head.

"This is Taylor Quincy, and you've met- "

"No- "Quincy interrupted. "She's an undercover operative, no matter what strings you've pulled to get _her_ involved in this, her _name_ is not in it."

She let out a breath but didn't look away from the death stare she was giving Helvana.

"Well, your team is now tasked with protecting him so he has to be able to call her something."

"Excuse me? What now?"

"I'm, apparently, kidnapping you to a cabin in the woods attract whoever's after you to make a move where I can kill them," she looked at him with the same dead eyes as the car.

He looked to Quincy, who said, "I don't do field work. You're safer with her until the rest arrive." He glowered, returning his gaze to Helvana, "Which will take time. Two hours at the earliest for the members _in_ the country."

"I don't think this is how Tim reckoned he'd be using his vacation time, either. Or is he on leave for another reason?" Art asked with deceptive mildness. Being Chief Marshal for almost half of his career with the Marshals, he knew how to both engender loyalty and protect his people, physically and politically.

"It's certainly not how my associate was expecting to end her months of undercover work," Quincy crossed his arms and sat facing Helvana, next to his.

"I explained, she's here and has a unique- "

"Set of skills. I recall. We also have six others- "

"You including the caffeine freak?" she interjected.

"Five others," he continued seamlessly, "With the same set of skills, _less_ than two hours away. Could have had them here to meet the deputy after his ride in."

"Where she was already saving his life," Helvana pointed out triumphantly.

"I was saving my own ass as much as anyone's. Let's not make heroes out of pragmatists, Sparky," she said. "He's not defenseless and spends his days _providing_ protection. I don't. I also just spent more than nine months earning _their_ trust, my contract says I get a one hour incommunicado for every day I spent there. I have 190 minimum hours of not taking anyone's calls, texts or emails. I'm _very_ attached to that time coming to me, and you're _depriving_ me."

She'd leant forward during her explanation and Helvana had stepped back. He pressed his lips together for a moment before saying, "I don't want her for a protective detail."

"There you go," she said quickly, leaning back, "you can't force him to trust someone he met under arrest."

Helvana stared at him a moment. "I assure you, former Master Sergeant Gutterson, that her professionalism, while not on display right now- "

"Meow."

"- Is not to be undersold. Nothing will happen to you under her protection."

"My concern is far more chauvinist." He didn't want to be alone with her. He was too aware of her for this to be anything but a bad idea. "I'd be too busy wanting to protect her. It's not _her_ place to protect me," it pricked a bit to offer that as his explanation as to why he definitely didn't want to be trapped in a cabin fearing for his life next to her, but it seemed more practical than just accepting her.

I wasn't that he didn't trust her capabilities. She was scary capable. It wasn't even that he was attracted to her, which he acknowledged he was on a level. It was that she creeped him out, he told himself. However, many questions the fact that she was a trained government operative answered, it raised too many others for him to want to risk it.

But he'd been raised to follow orders. His father's, then the army's.

It was up to her to keep this from happening.

She looked at him like she could see right through him, but apparently desired her earned time off more than an explanation as to why he decided to be a dick now. "I'm sure the deputy will be safe here, until you can find someone who would be more conducive to his misogynist leanings," she offered politely.

And he _just_ couldn't help himself, "I didn't say I was a misogynist, I said my concern was chauvinist. Two different things."

"So, your concern has to do with your _legitimate_ belief in _my_ inferiority rather than a belief that _all_ women are incapable of your protection?" Clearly, she couldn't help herself either, if Quincy's clenched jaw and closed eyes at her response were any indication.

"Anyway- "

He interrupted, "I think we can agree these two shouldn't be alone relying on the other for their lives. And we can get someone here by," he actually checked his watch, "half past seven?"

Helvana just stared, "I think it would probably be good for both of them to be in a room together."

"And I think they'd have _really_ obnoxious children, so let's not," Quincy replied.

Art snorted, while she just narrowed her eyes at Quincy. "I agree they shouldn't be in a room together."

"Doesn't matter. It's too late. That's the assignment, any changes will have to wait for tomorrow morning," Helvana set out a file. "The cabin isn't far outside the city. Security has been given a walk through, emergency response time is less than ten minutes- "

"No one can bleed out in that," she quipped, clearly unhappy.

"You can be on site within the hour, details of the security plan are in there, and I'm sure Deputy Gutterson won't mind driving," Helvana gave a generic smile and rose. "Rest of the team can meet them there. Those that are domestic, of course."

Quincy rose as well and offered his hand.

He took it and Quincy squeezed it and said, "Nice to have met you, asshole. If anything happens to one of my people, because of how you're playing this shit, I'll end you." He released him with a grim expression, "Have a great night."

Helvana recovered himself quickly, "If she's as good as they say, and _daddy_ didn't get her the job, it'll be a cakewalk." He turned to the deputies, "Goodnight."

Art watched him leave and said, "Something seem fishy?"

"Strings were pulled to get us in here to protect a former Army Ranger and Deputy Marshal. Nothing fishy there at all." Quincy looked down at her, "How's the plan?"

" _Seems_ well-thought, not having seen the house." She looked up at him, "What'shisface still have a place around here?"

"Yeah. Rather stay there?"

"If I can't keep him in the trunk until they're caught," She gestured to Tim with her chin. "Helvana doesn't exactly inspire a lot of confidence. Do they even know who they are?"

"Still investigating. Who's daddy?" Tim offered.

"Not who he thinks he is," she shot back still looking at Quincy, who looked at Art.

"Do you trust him enough to put your deputy in his house?"

Art looked at the suit and pursed his lips, "Tim, you've dealt with him longest…"

"Thank you for respecting that, sir, "he said ironically. "And this turn seems…"

"Shady as fuck?" She offered.

"Helvana has his reasons- "

"And you trust them? Without knowing why he'd want to remove you from the protection of your colleagues?" she scoffed.

"I do, because the threat has been former military and Helvana is military."

"And this office has never apprehended anyone former military?" She looked at Art.

"Do we get to know the details of this cabin?" Art asked, gesturing for Raylan to come in before crossing his arms.

"Which one?"

Art pursed his lips. "The one you'll have my deputy at. What _can_ we call you?"

"For this purpose, my name is Walters," she said to Art as Raylan came in. "Your boy wants to trust Helvana, that's less paperwork for me in the long run. I get shot at, though, and he will hear about it and we will play it _my_ way for the remaining time." Turning to Quincy, "What's the time on Tommy-boy and Juggalo?"

"Juggalo is out of town, Tommy will be here 4 hours with Les. Jake's closer. As far as cabin details, we can leave copies of their security reports here for you but I'd prefer as few people as possible know about it or plan B, say, just the two of you?" Quincy asked.

Arthur nodded, "Paper rather than email?"

"Less to risk hacking. Give me five," he pulled out his phone and started calling.

She'd begun marking through the security file on the cabin suggested to them, notes in the margins and highlights through the paragraphs.

"What are we supposed to do until your team gets here?" he asked.

"I'd prefer to wait in the security of the courthouse but Helvana doesn't want us to so I suppose it's up to you," she said absently flipping through the pages.

"The guy you killed. He was in the Army the same time as me. Owen Jackson. Did two tours, then moved to a private security firm over there," he sat and watched her work.

"Am I supposed to feel bad for killing him? He was trying to kill you and it didn't see like he had a lot of regard for the rest of us, either."

"Who taught you how to shoot like that?" he changed tactics.

"My mother," she said holding his eyes in hers.

They were a deep green-brown. Like a forest. Cool and deep and dangerous to the uninitiated. He suppressed a shiver.

"What's up?" Raylan asked to break the tension.

"Tim is going to be out of town for a little bit, I need you to follow up on what Wiggs and Jackson those other two yahoos had in common with Tim and to do it quietly."

Quincy nodded his approval as Tim ground his teeth. "If you're going to go, go now so you can recon before dark."

She nodded and looked to Tim, "I'll get my go bag."

The drive was pretty. She could at least admit that. Sigalia "Lia" Wintriev, or Sonya Walters, as she was currently being known, was usually good at admitting annoying facts. Her mind enjoyed turning them around and twisting them, generally to the annoyance of others. But it calmed her.

The deputy hadn't calmed her, before things went sideways he unnerved her. He'd been watching her. She'd felt his eyes on her for hours it seemed. Even driving, he watched her from the corner of his sniper's eye and every move she made had to be calculated.

Shit would be easier if he wasn't cute.

Not that that was worth admitting. The hat was more attractive anyway. If only the hat had the ability to make her shiver with a look. Stupid assholes with sniper rifles.

Helvana bothered her too. What was his angle? He'd mentioned her father twice, he put the flag on her that she wasn't supposed to be taken in by the FBI. Which had been the plan for more than nine months. She goes in with the FBI and then she goes home to see Uncle Peter before he passes. Plan involved him being out of the hospital but Q's updates had killed that hope.

Peter Wintriev had protected her, kept her fed and away from her father, had bent over backwards to protect her and her mother when they couldn't protect themselves, and she owed it to him to be there when he passed.

Sniper had noticed that she was quiet.

She hated snipers. Maybe because her father had a penchant for a rifle after his years in the Marines. Almost as much as with the cigars he'd pressed into her mother's skin, and then her own. Maybe because she didn't appreciate the idea that nowhere was safe from a long-distance shot. Either way, Lia would from here on out attribute everything she didn't appreciate to the fact that he was a sniper.

"What have you decided?" He asked it mildly, turning into the cabin's drive.

She'd let the trip get away from her. "I decide nothing. You and Helvana are running this shit show for now."

He pursed his lips and put the car in park.

He had pretty attractive lips.

Fucking snipers.

And then she thought about that.

She suppresses the thought a millisecond later with a shake of her head and met his eyes. "I go in first."

He nodded, looking mildly confused.

She pulled the handgun that Q had procured for her. She was still in the black sweater and leggings of what was going to be her adventure in air ducts but the boots from her own go bag were heavy and substantial on her feet.

The cabin was a tiny house experiment. She didn't think it even had space for insulation, much less other walls. She walked around it, as she'd been taught and seen Les do a million times. Les being the actual security expert of the team. She wasn't dumb, she knew what she was looking for, she was just better at other things.

The area immediately around the cabin was clear. There were a few footprints that made her suspicious but they could have been from the previous security team. Inside the cabin itself was the issue.

The windows only had sheers.

Who the fuck said that was ok?  
How had that passed muster?

She pulled her cellphone from the waistband of her leggings and called Q, "There are only sheers in the cabin. I don't like this. File didn't mention window coverings at all, if I recall. But this is outrageous."

Q cursed, and turned to explain the issue to someone with him. Lia returned to watching the marshal in the car. He was watching her too.

His eyes were too gray. Too stormy. That was why she didn't like him. That and he was a sniper.

The self-aware part of her wondered how many excuses she could make before she admitted she was attracted to him. The childish part responded by saying hundreds.

 _Focus, Wintriev. Yes,_ she told herself _, you've been up since 2:30 that morning and hadn't had a meal in almost a year to pull off this getup, but that's no reason to let a pretty sniper distract you. Not that he was pretty.  
_ "What's Tim say?" Q asked.

"Huh?"

She could hear the smile in his voice as he responded slowly, as if to one of his kids, "You said you were letting Tim and Helvana run the show, for now, did you tell Tim?"

"I'm still in the cabin, he's in the car."  
"He's not unequipped," Q said softly. "You want to go home? Use the resources we have."

"He's the protectee. I don't think going home will be nearly as satisfying if I let him die."

Q's smirk was clear through the phone line, "Sure, kid, that's what it is." And hung up.

She finished her walkthrough, the only bed was in a loft above the kitchen, there were windows all along the back of the house. No coverings but those damn sheers and the bathroom was off one side of the kitchen, which blissfully had a full refrigerator of hopefully un-poisoned food, and the bathroom featured a shower and conventional toilet. There were also a lot of lamps. If those could be rearranged, it might offer them some cover during the night.

She went back out to the car to see him reading on his phone, off her quirked eyebrow he said, "Nook app. How's the cabin?"

"Window sheers along the back wall."

"Well, shit." He clenched his jaw, thinking. "How long on your people?"

Looking at her watch, "3 hours, little less if Jake's driving."

"Your boss said Jake was closer," he recalled.

"Jake handles communications. He's not bad in a firefight but his specialty isn't this."

"No, mine is," he said flatly.

"Thought yours was up in trees and in clocktowers?" she shot back.

He flinched slightly and she felt half an inch tall.

"Look," she started again, "I'm sorry. I'm a bitch. Even when I'm not hungry and tired and in charge of things I don't normally do. I don't like the sheers. They weren't in the file. I don't like that he tapped my team without notice or wanted _us_ out here before they arrived. I think you were safer in the courthouse. This stinks of bait to me and I don't know the terrain well enough to be the one setting the trap. It _bothers_ me."

Instead of admitting to her wisdom, respecting her honesty, and motioning her back into car; he got out. "I was only gonna say it hurt you didn't give me more credit for creativity. Trees and clocktowers are overdone."

Seriously? "Well, fuck you then," she reached past him to get her bag and made the mistake of taking a breath that was full of him.

He was the Voldemort to her Harry Potter. For neither can live while the other survives.

Tim didn't mean to antagonize her. It was just right there. He really did only flinch to bother her. And it kind of warmed his heart that she cared that she hurt him.

He was on book five of the Ministry of Curiosities. It was all about a young necromancer being discovered by the ministry and used to help save the empire from her father, a ret-conned Victor Frankenstein. In the course of the books the head of the ministry had fallen in a very proper, and courtly love with the necromancer and sent her away from the only home she knew to protect her.

The character was dumb to deny their attraction and he was dumb to send her away when he was better equipped to protect her beside him, Tim thought. Take your happiness while you could because life is fleeting.

Tim also figured he might follow his own advice if he was stuck with her next to him anyway.

He grabbed his bag and chased in after her. Catching her arm on the step, he was beneath enough to look in her eyes. "I'm sorry. Truce?" he offered her a hand to underscore his words. It would be hell to be trapped with an angry woman, much less an angry one he was attracted to.

She took his hand hesitantly, the tentative contact stinging and shocking. She pulled her hand back as soon as contact was made and went inside, agreeing, over her shoulder, "Truce."

Well, shit if it wasn't mutual.

He grinned before he thought better of it. And made his way in with a lighter step than he'd had since Wiggs had broken in his apartment. He didn't appreciate the sheers, but the cabin was gorgeous. The woods, either maple or dark stained walnut. The furniture heavy and substantial with light colored natural fabrics and no noticeable country theme. Tossing his go-bag up to the loft he reached for hers.

"I'm on the couch," she was ransacking the fridge.

"You're gonna leave me up there defenseless?"

"I wouldn't know what to do with the high ground if I had it," she said sweetly.

He moved to stand too close to her and look over her shoulder at the sandwich she was making. "Hungry?"

"I haven't had a meal in a year. You want a sandwich? Make your own. Approach mine? Lose an arm."

He nodded, leaning closer.

She elbowed him gently, and turned while he was rubbing his stomach. Pointing the mustard stained knife at him, she said sternly, "Ours is professional relationship, Deputy. Not a 'you stand super close and try to smell my hair' relationship."

"You need a shower before I smell your hair. I was more thinking it wouldn't violate my security if I was in there washing your back," he didn't think he was going to get anywhere but closer by planting the idea in her head, and his, of being wet and soapy together. Given how her eyes closed in frustration at his suggestion he figured he was getting _somewhere_.

She opened her eyes to glare at him, "Why am I trying to keep you alive again?" and returned to her sandwich.

He wanted to be serious, but it had a been a week since the last attempt and they had one in custody and one in the ICU. He had been through too much to allow it to stop him from living. He turned back to the windows and tried to be serious. While he wasn't expecting them to make a move so soon, her life was on the line as well. She sat at the little half table with her sandwich and cracked the seal on a bottle of water. "You should get yourself something to eat," she said around her first bite.

"You want me to eat with you?" he said slyly.

"With me. With the fishes. No one should starve," she said before her next bite, giving that same sickly-sweet smile, he wanted to kiss off her face.

Apparently, telling himself it was ok to admit his attraction, magnified that attraction.

"My idea for the curtains," she continued, ignoring any undertones, "was to move all the lamps to the floor between the sheers and the windows. What do you think?"

She wasn't just a pretty face and he did approve of the idea, but it would blind them as much as anyone outside. So, would blackout liners though. He nodded, "Sounds good. Sunset is still an hour away." And started moving lamps.

He'd only gotten plugged in before she was finished. Wiping the crumbs from her hands over her plate after she finished, she rose and washed the plate before coming to help him. She started on the other end of the cabin and they met in the middle with all six available lamps on the floor, next to the windows.

Tim was looking out when he saw it. Grabbing her wrist for attention, he gestured at the doe that was maybe ten feet from the sliding glass door. She gasped and relaxed her arm. He slid his hand down to hers as the doe bent its neck to nibble on the bush.

She shivered before she could stop herself.

The doe sensed it and raised its head to stare at them and they both tried to stay frozen.

And failed as she pressed her lips together, shoulders starting to shake.

Walters managed to hold off her laughter until the doe was gone and then just lay on the floor next to him. He was still holding her hand. She was crazy.

Was it sleep-deprivation?

"I'd love to know what's so funny."

"You," she managed to gasp. "there's this beautiful moment with nature and you decide to make a pass and hold my hand."

"Worked though." He wanted to hold onto his pride, but she wasn't wrong. "When was the last time you slept?"

"Last night," she hiccupped. Which set her off again. Her hand tightening on his with every giggle-fit.

"For how long?" he asked patiently.

"I don't know." She stared up at him from the floor, "Is that how you get all the girls, Deputy? Strategically located fauna?"

"How much sleep did you get?"

She narrowed her eyes, "My sleeping habits- "

"More or less than an hour? You had to be early to get in that air duct," he squeezed her hand.

She tilted her head to where he was still holding her hand. Suddenly serious, she whispered, "let go of my hand."

She didn't pull it away until he raised his thumb off from where it had been rubbing her knuckles.

"How much sleep?" he whispered softly.

"An hour or so, I've been up since before 3," she conceded, glaring at her hand.

"Go take the bed. I'll stay down here and wake you at sundown," he tried to say it softly but he was angry.

She sat straight up. "I'm not sleeping until my people get here, Deputy. You're the damned protectee."

"You're exhausted and you shouldn't be here. You need a nap and a meal. You're skin and bones," only a slight exaggeration.

"Excuse me!" She stood up in outrage and he followed.

Saying wearily, "Yes, you have muscle on those bones, but not much else, and you could stand another fifteen or twenty pounds to keep you from blowing away in a stiff wind."

She smacked him.

And it fucking hurt. Girl had an arm.

She stepped nose to nose. Well, as close as they could get since he had eight inches on her tiny frame. "You will shut the hell up and recognize that you are the protectee. I am the security. Yes, I am fucking exhausted. And your bullshit doesn't help. I'm sorry you're not in your office doing your job. I'm sorry you're stuck in 'the hills have eyes' with me. I'm sorry you have to put your safety in the hands of someone you met while under arrest. But back the fuck off and get over it. Fluctuating between hitting on me and pulling my metaphorical pigtails isn't helping the situation."

"Take a damn nap." He shifted and armchair so his profile wouldn't be visible from outside, "I'll be right here."

She blinked. "No. What are you doing? We were fighting."

He looked up at her. "I may be an asshole, but I don't want anything to happen to either of us. Get some rest. You'll feel better."

She lay down on the couch across from him, tugging a throw over her body and setting her boots on the arm, "You're not moving from that chair?"  
"No, ma'am."

"I don't know if I trust you," the way she was eyeing him suspiciously made that clear.

"Well, I want us both to live, so let me work on that." And he shut his own eyes to keep from seeing her reaction.

Lia closed her eyes more than a moment after he shut his. What the hell? She put all her marshal related confusion in a box to rest.

And was shortly less-than-enjoying kibbutz flashbacks with her mother.

They'd fled to Israel, her mother's homeland after Peter had gotten them away from her father. Divorce was not something American Ambassador's do. But then again beating their wives and daughters was supposed to be off the table too. She'd been ten before the escape and the kibbutz was a dramatic difference from her previous private schools and ballet classes. It was hot and sweaty with the threat of potential terrorism outside of Jerusalem, where they'd settled first.

They'd fought a lot those first few years. Lia didn't know how extensive her mother's abuse had been. She'd been focused on the dramatic change her life had taken, and in childish narcissism, had taken it out on her mother. It wasn't long after that that her mother was gone, leaving her care to cousin in Tel Aviv, while Peter was still hiding her from her father.

They still fought in her mind. Lia never should have risked her father finding her again. Even after her time in the IDF and her Homeland Security recruitment.

Her mother wouldn't forgive her.

"You ok?" he was still reading on his phone when she opened her eyes.

She didn't respond but flinched when the glass broke.

Points to her, she tackled him first.

They stared at each other for a too-long moment before they both rolled to a crouch and withdrew their weapons. He peered through the window behind one of the lamps. There was movement at the base of a pine and heading west northwest, or a roundabout way to the house.

She pulled him a few inches away from the window by an ankle like he was a child and he wondered what she'd put in that sandwich. "Get back towards the kitchen. Stay behind the door."

"Is that where you're gonna be?" he whispered back.

She rolled her eyes and positioned herself by the window in a defensive posture, gun out.


	2. Chapter 2

So, this chapter took me forever to get close to right. Sorry about the wait.

The door was kicked in before Tim could get in position. And he drew to fire and all hell broke loose.

From beyond the cabin two gunman were gearing up for the assault. Their colleagues in the strike force were already in position to sweep the cabin. Before either could turn to the cracking twigs behind them, they were pulled to the ground, unconscious before they hit.

Lia fired on the first through the door, with the second opting to use the first as a human shield as she continued firing while trying to avoid the window. Tim took him out from behind.

They looked at each other in the moment of calm before Lia led him out into the dimming light around the cabin. The sun was just starting to set. She paused at the tiny porch, seeing no one in the grayed light, only shadows. She motioned him to follow.

Tim stayed close, instinctively letting her lead. However unsure she'd seemed about running his protective detail, she was in her element responding to and leading a counter-assault. She led him cautiously with no second-guessing, observing everything including protocol.

They had no flashlights but their phones, which would give them away. The only ammunition in their pistols or what was packed, still in their bags in the cabin. There was no light except the lamps, remaining on in the cabin, between the curtains and shattered windows. There were no shadows as the curtains moved in the autumn breeze to distract them.

She stopped Tim and gestured to what appeared to be a figure on the other side of the SUV they'd arrived in.

The gunman stood with his hands up and walked forward, "Was just telling your friend, I want my phone call." Stepping forward, he was trailed by a burly guy in a leather jacket, pointing a gun at him.

"Hey, Jake," she put her gun down and gestured for Tim to go back to the cabin. "Grab your bag, clocktower, my party now."

Tim drove back with her while her colleagues, Jake, Thomas and her boss, Les, took the three apprehended assailants.

She had introduced them, but not herself. To his credit, he refrained from asking in front of them. He'd heard them call her Lia and his eyes had narrowed, so she took the keys and prepared for a deeply annoying interrogation.

He waited until they'd been on the road for a few blissfully silent minutes before asking, "How did you know I was a sniper?"  
"Was in the file on your protection from Helvana."

"Uh huh. So, your name is Lia?" He'd shifted to watch her drive and irritate her further.

"Lia Wintriev," she confirmed.

"And your specialty is?"  
"Languages," she merged into the center turn lane and focused on the stoplight rather than his poker face.

"You were a language major? I don't see it."

"I spent seven years in the IDF, clocktower. I speak more than a dozen languages and dialects."

He finally blinked. She normally kept her military experience to herself. Lawmen not typically being friendly to anyone who served in a foreign military, even an ally. "This is the part where you ask why I'm here," she prompted, making a left.

He hesitated, "So, your father is some kind of important foreign asshole and you're here to what? Spy for him?"

She snorted. "My father is a mid-level asshole with the _American_ State department. My mother was Israeli. I grew up there after she left my father. Israel is my home, but America is where I was born. I've held dual citizenship my whole life. I also haven't had anything to do with my father since I was ten, so, I'm as in the dark as you as to Helvana's interest in him."

"Why are you here?"

"I was recruited. One of the men who helped get my mother and I out of the country gave my name to Les when he was putting together his team. I owe the man, eventually I said yes."  
"Eventually?"  
She rolled her eyes. "Some of us actually enjoy soldiering. I was good at it. I miss it."

"Agent-ing isn't the same," he agreed, nodding sagely.

She pursed her lips not to smile. The nap had done her good. Not that she'd admit that to him. Still watching her, half smile on his lips.

"What are you looking at, Deputy?"  
"Just a pretty girl who can kill me with her thumbs."  
"Who needs both?" she smirked.

He grinned and she took her eyes off the road to take it in.

Her eyes flickered back as he grinned wider. Damn him. He knew she was liked him. Smug bastard.

"So, what woke you up? The sun hadn't set yet?"

Tim let her lead the way up to his office, not entirely so he could watch her butt in leggings after she'd wordlessly declined to answer his last question. He'd seen the way she looked at him in the car, it was mutual he was sure. He put it on the backburner when they reached the third floor.

They split to discuss their statements with their respective teams and what had been discovered while they'd been out.

Three gunmen arrested from around the cabin and still no sign as to why Tim was targeted. The DHS team currently consisted of Agent-in-Charge Les DeMatteo, former Secret Service, Thomas Hicklands, fresh out of FLETC, after law school, Jake Orville, part of their backup at the cabin, with a Computer Science degree to help him in a gun fight, and Quincy Taylor, the second in command.

To say nothing of Lia Wintriev, his bodyguard and alleged language specialist.

Helvana was "on the way," and they were going over the information they had so far while waiting for him.

They were in conference room, far too late, when Tim's phone went off while she was briefing them about the Jordanian private security start-up that had it's name on one of their bodies.

After Assad started seizing private security firms during the uprisings, several businessmen jumped ship and started new firms. One was Al'amn Alamin. It was barely two years old and had been flagged for crimes and abuses by the Israeli, Saudi, and Egyptian governments. American firms kept their distance, having had enough trouble with the press without shady associates, Lia had been explaining before the phone rang.

Tim stood to answer it expecting to take it into the locker room rather than in front of anyone. "Gutterson."

"Hey, Timmy-boy. How's Ben's cousin? My boys said was bang-able," the voice on the other line said.

Tim froze. Putting his phone on speaker, he said, "Who is this?"

The voice laughed, "I just wanted to let you know I'm dibs-ing Benny's cousin when you're though. She'll be needing a real man by then."

Tim looked blankly up at the rest of the room. Jake was on his computer and Art was looking over his shoulder. Raylan was gritting his teeth in frustration, but waving at him to keep the conversation going, like he didn't already know. The DHS team was also looking to Lia, who had narrowed her eyes at the phone.

"What did Benny do this time?" she asked.

Raylan glared at her.

"Hey, there, treasure. Missing home?"  
"What did he do this time?" she repeated.

"That's just between Benny and myself. Timmy-boy keeping you warm?" whoever he was he seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Mine is not a family to toy with. And Ben has arguably more bodies than I do—"

"I dunno, treasure, you had had a lot of years with the IDF, he was saying. Think you might beat secret agent man with your blades. She take any of my boys out with them, Tim? It's a sight, I hear."

"Now that we know where you know her from, where do I know you from?" Tim said, looking at her.

"That hurts, Gutterson. I like to think I leave an impression."

"Every man does," Lia said tartly.

"Ouch, treasure. Looks like you're not keeping her satisfied, Tim."

"Is that how you and my cousin met? Discussing notches in the gunstock?" she pulled out her own phone and was typing as she was being gaped at. "Or will I get a straighter answer from him?"

"Who's ever gotten a straight answer from a spy?" A beat passed. "You're calling him right now, aren't you?"

"Texting. It's actually easier if you tell me what he did, but like you said, I am missing home," she didn't look up from her phone. Tim sat in front of her, holding the phone out.

"Timmy, I think you might you might have bitten off more than you can chew."

"I don't know, she scares the shit out of me," Tim said.

Lia nodded, not looking up, "So, back to the whole asking your name thing… I mean, what's the point of calling about some master revenge plan to gloat if you're still a nobody?"

The phone was silent, and Tim had to check the screen to verify the call was still connected. "I'm gonna enjoy making you scream, treasure." And hung up.

She still hadn't looked up, "Jake?"

"Syria. The phone is in Syria, west of Daraa. It bounced through about thirty countries beforehand though."

She looked up, and Les asked, "You don't trust it?"

Raising her eyebrows, she shrugged, "Jake?"  
"I want to trust it. It bounced before it got there, so it may not have finished bouncing is my concern…"

Tim had the distinct impression Jake wasn't telling them everything.

"But it's a safe bet he wasn't down the street?" Art asked.

Lia's eyes were back at her phone, and Raylan asked, "Who's Ben?"

"My cousin, Benjamin Wintriev. With Mossad," she held the phone out.

A female voice answered, and Lia conversed with it in quick short phrases in what he presumed was Hebrew. After a brief moment on hold, the phone was picked up with a cocky, "And how are the Americans, Sigalia?"

"You're on speakerphone, Zack, with my boss and the Marshal's Service. Gentlemen, Isaac Saban. Zack, Chief Deputy Mullen from the marshal's and Les DeMatteo, from Homeland Security."

"All fun and games where you are."

"How I stay entertained," she responded mildly. "Has—"

"I'll not tell your Aunt Sara then," he cut in.

"I appreciate that. Has Ben ticked anyone off recently?"

"No more than you have, I imagine, you're a consistent family."  
"This is the part where you ask why we're asking, Zack."

"Ben's… He's been impulsive lately, with Peter's illness. Hasn't been any easier on you, has it?" he said defensively.

Lia closed her eyes and clenched her jaw while Art said, "His name has been dropped following a threat against one of my Deputies, Mr. Saban."

"What?"  
"My team was tasked to protect the deputy, Zack. That's why I'm still here. From someone who called me 'Benny's cousin' while threatening him. We don't know who he is and mother- "Lia stopped and stared at Les.

He shrugged and looked at her blankly.

On the phone, Zack said, "Sigalia?"

"Zack, what is the procedure if there's a recognized threat against a patient at the hospital?"  
"Like a _relative_ possibly being targeted?" Art asked, following her thought process.

She nodded.

"Any other high profile potential targets at the hospital would be moved out and depending on the nature of the threat versus the care necessary, the patient in question would be moved out as well."  
"And any high-profile targets would be more vulnerable in transit, once a threat was confirmed?" Les said, hopping onto her train of thought.

"It's prepping an assassination attempt. It's a diversion," Tim said, looking at Lia.

Art nodded. "It's a theory. I still have a deputy that's been targeted, and we still need any information on that asshole we can get."  
"I can get a list of anyone who Ben's irritated lately to you. It's got to go through David's office though."

"I can rush that through, no problem," she said. "Anything relating to what I asked Ben about a little while ago, too."

"Has he—"

"Janna said she already has it pulled up."

Zack responded in Hebrew, Tim assumed, and they exchanged a few words before he hung up.

Art sat down and looked at the DHS team, "How soon is 'rush'?"

"We can get it in an hour or so, I can call David to have it released," she replied.  
"Who's David?" Raylan asked.  
"David Gurion is the new head of security at the Israeli Embassy in D.C." Les said, sitting down, across from Art. "The position was previously held by Lia's uncle Peter, Ben's father."

She smirked, "I'll call him now." She rose and left the room.

Q took her vacated seat. "Peter Wintriev is currently hospitalized with complications to lung cancer. He's not expected to survive the year. She was supposed fly over when she completed her assignment but was shanghaied to protect Deputy Gutterson.

"Peter has been a strong advocate of American Israeli relations and has spent decades using his position to help American anti-terror and military intelligence activities. Recruiting his half-American niece from the IDF to Homeland was a coup for us."

Tim narrowed his eyes. Political pawn, but Daddy was a mid-level nobody? Sure. He gritted his teeth now suspecting she'd played him. Deflecting from who her father was. He took a deep breath. She had proven herself respectably capable and that was what counted. He could trust she'd have his six in a fight and that was the part that counted, right? A lie by omission meant little in the scheme of things. It just reminded him not to be lead around by his dick.

They opted to take Tim to a hotel safe house. They had the penthouse to themselves and while the rooms were relatively private, the doors weren't to be locked. So, there he was, in a fancy hotel room he couldn't afford and wasn't paying for, with a woman he had been previously wanting to get naked. He couldn't decide if it was appropriate or pathetic.

Raylan gets the head cheerleader from his hometown and Tim gets locked in a penthouse with the woman he wanted and her closest colleagues.

Life was not fair.

He had wanted her. Had made the conscious choice to try to get to know her in pursuit of that… and she was playing him.

Of course, her relatives were intelligence, she probably couldn't help herself.

He lay down to rest in his hotel room. Closed his eyes and dreamed.

Lia wasn't happy. She'd showered, was in her own clothes. Not that they were so different from the clothes of Sonya Walters. She was in cropped athletic pants and a hoodie over a tank top. Their olive and hunter green coloring flattering her own dark complexion and black hair, now clean. And her previously flat stomach now full of room service eggplant parmigiana. She was sleepily content as Les and Q sat across from her. Q was taking first watch and would wake Jake before he went to rest. Always an early riser, she would be up at five regardless to keep watch until seven or so when they'd start their day.

"You know how this has to work," Q began.

"How what has to work?" She asked, hand on her food baby and a laptop before her.

"You're a protectee as well, now."

"Because he name-dropped Ben?"

"Because he intimated a relationship between you and the protectee while threatening you on your cousin's behalf," Les said, cold and frustrated that he had to explain it to her. "What happened between you and the deputy?"

"We bickered. I took a nap." She held finger up to cut him off, "He is not a defenseless child, he can take care of himself. My sleeping- "

"I don't care about you sleeping. I care that he is blatantly attracted to you and our target is aware that he can push that button. I care because you're such a Goddamn marshmallow that you'll let his attraction get you into trouble."

"I'm a what now?"

"Lia," Q said softly to calm the situation. "Boss."

"Deputy Gutterson's feelings are his own. And we are all professionals here, so, if I'm a protectee now, then Sparky McNo-Name isn't going to get near me, is he?" she pointed out.

Les, put his head in his hands. An oversized Italian, he was more muscle than anything but the Tony Soprano comparisons weren't lacking. "Lia, he threatened you. He knew the meaning behind your damn name. And we don't know who he is yet. He has the edge. We have a puppy dog who wants to follow you. And I don't have you in the field."

"I can still investigate and call around, or am I being deprived of the internet, lest he finds us that way?" she knew she was being petulant now.

"Is the deputy going to get in the way?" Q asked.

"Why would he? He knows what we're about. If he were going to go off half-cocked he'd have done it before now," Lia pointed out.

"Are your feelings for each other going to get in the way?" Q repeated.

She blinked at him. "For each other?" She stood and whispered fiercely, "You blow a crush out of proportion? You assume its returned? And you're benching me?"

"Li- "

"No, we've known each other hours. Yes, they were… eventful, but do not blow and idle chemical attraction into star-crossed lovers. And do not assume I'm that easy. Yes, I have a glaring mistake that is unfortunately part of out professional lives. So, don't think I'll make the same one again. And don't assume because I'm not in the field I can't work. Now, I am going to bed and you two can go to hell, sirs."

She did wait to be dismissed though, to her own chagrin.

Ensconced in her own room, even with the door unlocked, she felt more relaxed than she had in months. All she needed was to see Uncle Peter and it would be ok. Laying in bed, she couldn't sleep.

That wasn't her.

She was a soldier, she could sleep anywhere. Would eat when she could. Sleep when she could. That was her way. She had adapted to it and kept it since she was a teenager. Now, in a comfortable, warm bed, surrounded by friendlies, she couldn't?

Fuckin' clocktower.

She talked a big game but she was attracted to the sniper. Sheelohim ya. And now she couldn't sleep because of him. Lousy jerk.

She paid attention to her breath. Slowing it to rest her body, and let her mind wander.

Naturally, it wandered to him.

The feel of his hand on hers, watching the doe. The heat trailing across her skin as he moved to take her hand. His rough thumb skin dragging across her knuckles. How would it feel across her nipples?

Her eyes flew open.

That was not where her mind needed to wander right now.

She was not going to sleep right now.

She was screaming for him. Trapped in the next room with that faceless monster putting his hands on her. She was screaming, "NO!" and "Please, Tim!" and "Stop, please!" and Tim couldn't get there to save her.

Lia was being raped in the next room and he couldn't protect her.

Tim awoke in a cold sweat with a new nightmare to his name.

He stepped out after splashing cold water on his face and drinking what he could from his hands. It was totally inappropriate for him to go to her. To make sure she was all right with his own eyes. He stepped out to the communal area and found Jake, Lia, safe and whole, sitting on the couch with a laptop. Dark eyes alert to him.

And he bent to take to her face in his hands and kiss her.

Tim came out of his room looking lost, angry, and mission-oriented. Not a comfortable set of characteristics but he zeroed-in on her and she forgot that Jake had stepped back to clean the filter of the coffeemaker, fifteen feet away.

His lips were hard and demanding. The kiss was slow and methodical. A dominant exploration of what made her moan. He planted his flag and she pulled him down to her. One hand moved away from her face to pull her computer from her set it on the ground. The hand moving to her knee to pull her leg to him.

"Ahem," Jake cleared his throat.

Lia and Tim pulled back from one another and she knew she had to flush fuchsia. He kept his eyes on hers. Then to her lips.

"Morning," he grumbled. Remembering belatedly that she was trying to play him with her big eyes and swollen lips. Christ, how swollen they looked now.

He shook the thought away and got up on his quest for a bottle of water from the fridge. Ignoring the DHS agent.

Popping the seal, he took longs swigs, keeping an eye on Lia. She was in color, her face more than the sweats, if they could be called that, her bare feet curled underneath her slight body, toes unpolished. The leg he had just had his hand on.

"Morning, Deputy," Jake said, glancing to his colleague.

"Can we have a minute, Jake?" she said softly.

He nodded to Tim, and stepped to another room, saying, "I'll be just behind the door, kid."

He waited for the door to click shut before sitting further down from her and muttering, "I shouldn't have done that, I know."

"So, why did you?" she kept her soft tone.

He smirked at his bottle and didn't look at her. "I had a dream. You were- I couldn't get to you."

"He was raping me?" she said baldly.

He looked at her so quickly he gave himself whiplash. "I couldn't save you. And then here you were."

"So, you chose to stick your tongue down my throat to celebrate? Without my consent?" she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Which was a dick move and I am sorry for it," Tim said honestly.

She grabbed his arm so quickly and twisted it behind his back before he could get another breath out. "First, do not assume I can't defend myself against your spiffy Ranger reflexes," she released him, letting her hand stroke down his arm and took his hand. "And second, I don't do casual. I don't do short-term, and I don't fuck guys I work with. This- " she gestured between them, "is not a thing that's happening. Make eyes at me again, clocktower, and I'm gonna put them in a box."

"Ok, then," he closed his eyes and kissed her again.

Her hands went to his chest and stayed there, not pushing him away. He kept it slow, deepening it. She still didn't push him away. he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth and she whimpered. Tilting her head to ease his access. Pulling away once he had achieved her acquiescence, he asked, "If you could have stopped me, why didn't you?"

"Because I didn't want to," she said simply, breathlessly. "Not because it's a good idea."

"We're on the same side. It could be," he brushed her nose with his own.

"Whatever you're offering, Gutterson, I'm gonna want more." She pecked his lips and walked away.


End file.
